


The Stone Fox

by Machati



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Culture Shock, Fox Hanzo Shimada, Hurt/Comfort, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Language Barrier, Loose mythology, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 21:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machati/pseuds/Machati
Summary: Long after the death of his brother, the remaining stone fox fell into a sleep that would last centuries. Now there's someone around loud enough to keep him from even sleeping past noon.





	The Stone Fox

**Author's Note:**

> [Insert usual 'please don't hate me, it's my first fanfiction' spiel]  
> Honestly I kept procrastinating really buckling down with writing by using fine-tuning a story as an excuse so this one is a little bit wing-it story-wise. Really, feel free to give constructive criticism, just know I'm not gonna study out my ass on Japanese mythology to make everything perfect... It's loose. 
> 
> There's a language barrier but there's no plans of full sentences written in Japanese. I feel like it'd hurt the whole 'language barrier' thing if y'all can look it up on google when the character's can't.
> 
> The Explicit rating doesn't apply to this chapter at all but the fic IS intended to go down that road.

Long ago there were two stone foxes that sat before a small shrine. The shrine was a good hike into a mountain forest and because of that, it received only a few devoted visitors. Most days the shrine only saw small peeping birds come by. It was during those lonely days that the foxes moved, changed, stretched their arms and legs a little. They were brothers named Hanzo and Genji, and the shrine was never quiet with siblings around.

 

Then a terrible storm swept through the mountainside. When the next visitor came to check up on the shrine, they found the little structure and a single fox intact short of a few scuff marks. The other stone fox was not so lucky. The fox made stone green as jade had been shattered to pieces.

 

The forest became so very quiet for the remaining Hanzo. He couldn’t bare to have it any other way either, not when the few sounds were those wretched guests. The people shook their heads and clicked their teeth pitifully at the remains of his brother. When they finally cleaned up the broken stone, they walked off with the pieces. They left the spot bare. The bastards didn’t even leave flowers for his loss.

 

At some point though the people just stopped coming altogether. Hanzo didn’t know why and he wasn’t the slightest bit curious about it either. The fox didn’t even bother changing forms anymore. In the silence of the woods, he slept his time away. He did not budge even as his slate blue skin bleached white and blanketed over with moss.

 

He didn’t even notice a new visitor finally appeared, at least not at first. The man quietly looked over the old shrine now grown over with brush while tapping a finger to his chin. He would have to be much louder than that to wake a sleeping statue.

 

It was less than a week later the fox finally woke.

 

The first thing Hanzo heard was laughter. Hearty, loud laughter that boomed through his silence. He’d gasp in surprise if not for his stony form. There was the urge to glower down at whomever ruined his peace, but Hanzo didn’t move an inch. Not that he needed to see this far too enthused stranger.

 

And also the new statue that said stranger was now adjusting this and that way until it sat presumably perfect. Hanzo couldn’t understand a single word the man panted but his laugh was a victorious one.

 

What the man lugged up into the mountain was a tanuki statue, Hanzo recognized it instantly. There had never been a tanuki statue near him or his shrine and he had never thought he would have to be grateful of that.

 

Because he hated it.

 

Maybe it cost this strange man a good piece of gold but its unsightly form was turned slightly to the fox. Its head was a cocked a little and its eyes big and owlish, just eternally staring Hanzo’s way. It was the first thing he saw besides the burly man adjusting it around and it made Hanzo want to transform just to properly grimace. Or at least shudder.

 

He didn’t. He rarely ever transformed in front of people, and certainly not strangers. It had usually been Genji who changed form first, the jade fox always had to resist any chitchatting.

 

The man sat down on the ground next to his Hanzo-gawking statue, blissfully unaware of the newly awoken stone fox that wanted to ring his damn neck. He cracked open a bottle of booze--where he had been hiding that previously, Hanzo did not know--and guzzled away. The man rested for a while, seemingly just content with the woodland sights, before heading back down the mountain to wherever he had come from. Leaving Hanzo with this new bug-eyed statue. Alone.

 

For the first time in who-knows-how-long, Hanzo changed form. He stretched his arms out, then his legs, then he stood, and then he turned that big-eyed tanuki to god damn rubble. He wouldn’t be satisfied either until he not only destroyed the thing but took each painted eye and chucked it as far as he could throw it.

 

Hanzo stayed transformed for the night. He was too infuriated--too insulted--to sleep again.

 

There were no wondrous sights to distract his mind out there in forest. The brush had grown thicker, taking over the shrine he was supposed to protect, and that was the extent of changes in the expansive forest that Hanzo cared to note. It took pacing and more pacing to exhaust him enough to sit still, but by the time the strange man appeared again, Hanzo was back to his stone fox form.

 

The man scratched his head looking over the crumbled remains of his newly bought statue. He spoke in another language about it but the confused and pitiful tone was universal. Good. That’d teach him. Hope he wasted all his savings on that eyesore!

 

He didn’t. It wasn’t even nightfall before the man had lugged up another statue into the forest. He came huffing and puffing, this one undoubtedly heavier than the last. If Hanzo wasn’t miffed he might just commend the man’s strength and persistence.

 

Maybe even suggest using a wagon or something next time he do this. The dolt. There would be a next time if he intended on being so persistent about this because as soon as the man was gone again, Hanzo was transforming again. And dealing with this statue as well.

 

Admittedly this statue wasn’t one Hanzo could just smash to bits. It was not made of wood or stone but metal. It was nicer looking than the last one too. It one was maneki-neko, with a cute little face.

 

And Hanzo still hated it. He could at least hoist it up with ease, and intended to chuck it as far as he could into the woods. Right before he could, he hesitated. An idea popped into his head. Planting the metal cat down and with one of his claws, Hanzo carved into the feline’s white painted belly. _Then_ he tossed it down the path the man had worked so hard to carry it up.

 

Clear as day the cat statue how had scrawled in Japanese:

 

“DO NOT PUT ANYTHING HERE IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE! SINCERELY, HANZO.”

 

Satisfied, Hanzo actually got some sleep that night.

 

The next day, sure enough, the man returned bright and early. He arrived with a bag slung over his shoulder, but whatever was in it the man dropped as soon as he came across his newly bought waving cat.

 

Blurting something in his foreign tongue, the man dropped to his knees in order to turn the heavy statue over. He cocked his head and creased his brow as he looked over the scratchings.

 

Hanzo watched silently, initially pleased by the troubled look the man had. It was seconds later the stone fox noticed the man’s lips moving, gradually just trying to word out what Hanzo had written. Now, Hanzo had been asleep for quite some time but he took pride in being precise, even when writing angrily. He was sure his handwriting was perfect even with claws on paint, so it must have been the man’s fault.

 

The man started looking around while scratching his head again, clearly confused. He drawled out a low-toned hum while he stared into the woods for a minute. Then, the strange man suddenly went into his bag in search of something.

 

The man took out a broom of all things. It was small, with a wooden handle, and he was staring at it like it was his only choice; unsure but definitely uttering something along the lines of ‘it’ll do.’ He reached for a stick and started scraping it on the wooden handle. He looked between the cat and the handle as he worked.

 

He was writing down the written Japanese. This man didn’t know a lick of Japanese, did he?

 

Once the thick man was done and pleased with himself, he went back down the path again. With only his bag too. He actually left the damn defaced cat statue to just hang out there. At least the maneki-neko had its back turned to Hanzo instead of staring at him from his brother’s perch. If this man needed a translator before he got the message then so be it, Hanzo decided. Hanzo could wait a little to never be bothered again.

 

It really was only a little bit later when the man trekked back up to the shrine. He was running with that bag his jangling at his back. He had a determined grin on his face as he planted a foot on the statue and pushed it further down the hilly path. He didn’t follow after it as it tumbled, instead the man turned his sights right to Hanzo and the shrine.

 

He drawled out some words Hanzo couldn’t begin to understand. He didn’t sound angry though, and when he went reaching into his bag, he was pulling out gardening tools. Some Hanzo recognized even after so many years had passed, while others he would have to wait and see in action.

 

The loudest one whipped through the brush like it was nothing. If Hanzo were to guess a name for it, he’d call it a ‘weed whacker’. The man got rid of the growth, then changed tools to buff out the scuffs of the shrine. It had been quite a few decades at least since the shrine last had attention but the man whistled, impressed at its strength through these unkind years.

 

Honestly, Hanzo was surprised as well by the shrine. He certainly hadn’t been doing his part to keep it safe. Could benefit from a fresh coat of paint though.

 

Sure enough the man pulled a red bucket and paintbrush out from his bag. Well, he and his bag were prepared for just about anything, weren’t they?

 

It was hours before the man finally turned his attention away from the shrine. Hanzo almost expected him not to pay the stone fox any mind, but the diligent man wiped his hands clean of grime and neared Hanzo. He kneeled down and hummed thoughtfully as he looked over the fox. It was a little nerve-wracking in a way, being judged.

 

Luckily the man didn’t feel the need to bring any of his loud, extreme tools to deal with Hanzo. The fox was sure that he’d die of disgrace if a weed whacker was really needed to clean up his mess. The man just peeled off the clingy moss and carefully rubbed away some dirt with the corner of his shirt. While he worked, Hanzo really didn’t have anything better to do than take a closer look at the man.

 

He was hairy. Very hairy, and fairly dark-skinned. He wore a shirt with an odd pattern and pants with a tear at one knee. The man’s belly and dishevelled shirt covered his waist from Hanzo’s perspective, but every now and again he was catching the look of some sort of shiny belt with thick lettering. Shiny as it was, it kind of looked cheap. It was amazing to Hanzo that a man dressed like this could afford to buy multiple statues in a few days time.

 

And needless to say this man didn’t look or dress or talk like he was from anywhere even close to Japan. Hanzo had met a few visitors from far off lands and none like this person. Times had changed, but now it seemed like a foreigner like this was just living nearby. He doubted someone on any sort of pilgrimage would stay around in one spot buying statues anyways...

 

So, were there more people like him? It was strange for Hanzo to consider that he might not understand any future visitors, and they not him either. He had to tell himself that maybe that was for the best. The man was mumbling this and that, and Hanzo could ignore it. At least he didn’t have to understand any talk about him anymore.

 

He was sure the man was saying something about pitying Hanzo too. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man judging his scuffed up haunch. He mumbled something discontent and tried to rub out the little scratches.

 

They wouldn’t budge, but Hanzo already knew that. Those were not the scratch marks made by clingy moss or mere woodland creatures.

 

Eventually the man was satisfied with what he could accomplish with Hanzo. He stood up, hands planted on his hips and a broad smile as he gazed upon Hanzo and the shrine. Hanzo could understand at least that he was saying something encouraging, maybe some sort of promise, before the strange man’s expression suddenly changed. His brows up-turned and smile faltered as he stared at the stone fox.

 

He could stand to try harder to make Hanzo not understand him clearly pitying the fox. He really could. Hanzo despised it, but at least when the man quickly turned that mug of his away. Finally, the man returned to the abandoned metal cat and left with it.

 

Alone again but Hanzo had no reason to come out of his fox form this time, and decided instead to enjoy his cleaned up stone with a peaceful sleep.

 

It must have been late morning when he stirred. He awakened to the sound of a thunk on the empty perch next to him. The man was back and placing something new down. He muttered something in a soft voice before taking a breath and leaving again.

 

There was something new sitting across from Hanzo now. A sturdy jade vase with white chrysanthemums. When the man came back the following morning, he found his offering to the lost fox unharmed and right where he had left it.


End file.
